


Heroics and heartbreak

by orphan_account



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Author Can't shit out more than a thousand words, BECAUSE FUCK THAT SHIT, Claustrophobia, Geralt But Multi-Racial in a Different way, Geralt is Geralt, Jaskier is a dnd bard AND a half elf, M/M, Slow Burn, They both have around the same life span, jaskier centric, no beta we burn like Cintra, will add more as i go along - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22958866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: [The DND AU nobody asked for.]It was then Jaskier remembered. Years ago when he'd gone to a village south of the sword coast, they'd spoken of a blood hunter with hair white and eyes golden, how he'd butchered their men.Jaskier's mouth formed an O. "You're Geralt of Rivia." He spoke with amazement. "The Butcher of Blaviken."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 25
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Short this first one is but I wanted to show where the fuck Jaskier was before story proper.

Jaskier wasn't a complete idiot despite what many of his contemporaries claimed.

He was an educated young man with far more knowledge and latent magic than a bard ought to have. So what if he indulged in the pleasures of the flesh far too often? It wasn't exactly his fault that both sexes were appreciative of his features.

No, Jaskier was not unintelligent. However, he was most definitely unwise. No books could ever truly prepare one for the world and he himself was far too selfless to take away the blessing of his presence from the wanting public.

So it is in that sentiment that he'd yet again found himself fleeing the clutches of an angered farmer who's lovely son had invited him to bed.

His breath heaved.

Jaskier ducked his head to avoid the suspicion of an incoming guard. The crunch of his shoes against gravel felt like sharp pin pricks in his ear, each noise bringing him closer to what could be his demise. He knew his worry was unneeded, that the minor illusion he'd cobbled together was enough to fool common folk; but he wasn't so sure whether or not there were only villagers in their midst and not a fellow adventurer out for coin and maybe a head or two.

Jaskier slowed his pace as he passed through a dimly lit alley, the walls rough against his back. If he leaned forward just the slightest bit his nose would meet stone and he wasn't ready to acknowledge whatever wet substance his hand grasped on the walls. This was already shaping up to be one of his worst nights and he wasn't even drunk yet. Melitel help him.

He squeezed past a tight corner, the moon up above being his only guide. The lights were scarce on this side of town and at the end of the path he could see a fire dancing lazily in the darkness.

He shifted his head to listen to the faint sounds of searching men. The noise was muted, meaning that they were farther away compared to before. He was probably nearer to the outskirts of town at the moment and if he was gone for just a bit more then they would (hopefully) end their search. They always did. Eventually.

Jaskier grumbled as he did one final push past the alley to get himse--  
"Oof,"

The bard sighed in relief, his body relaxing with the increase in space. He raised his arms in a stretch, bones creaking and popping in release. Now that the worst part was over he could finally calm down.

He looked a little worse for wear; his doublet caked with dust and his hair askew from all the squeezing. He huffed and patted the dust off of himself, arranging his blond... Wait why was it-- right, illusion. He arranged his hair in an orderly manner and held his hands at his hips. Jaskier surveyed the area. It was relatively untouched, the only sign of disturbance being from the horse he'd rented who'd decided to sleep in the shade while he was gone. He sighed in relief.

It would be a long night of riding if he wanted to get to the nearest port town before dawn broke. Apparently the barmaiden he'd been asked to deliver a parcel to was located there. Besides, port towns were always the best spots to weasel out a few coin. The more people were willing to drink the more they were willing to pay--and who knows, maybe he'd get a free room if he helped keep the ale flowing into customers' mouths and the money flowing out of their pockets.

Melitel willing he'd have better luck by coin and by groin. Jaskier exhaled, patting his chest to give himself encouragement.

It was time to escape.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier gets some sleep

He rode into town at dawn, hair blown back from riding at full speed. The chill of early morning air swept past his face and attempted to frost the water building at the edge of his eyes. He needed to find an inn soon lest he'd likely drop dead from exhaustion. Even his disguise had fallen away to the recesses of his consciousness long ago.

They'd taken a bit of a rest a few ways back to account for his mare's tired legs but he knew well that the night was unforgiving and while being in a small village would provide him some safety, it would still be best to keep on the move should something have decided to follow them. He kept his mouth shut and ears opened for anything in his surroundings but all that had greeted him were the sound of crickets and galloping hooves.

Now that the sun had risen, he knew he was safe. Mostly. The morning came with its own horrors but at the very least it wasn't of the inherently magical and murder-y kind.   


He pulled to a stop at a stable marked with the words “Soup Store'' written in common. The elf he'd rented the horse from had looked on at him in distrust (purists were an annoying bunch.) but a hefty amount of coin and a bit of schmoozing later and he was off. Apparently they had a complicated system for renting that Jaskier didn't care all too much about to really listen to, and apparently their horses were also cursed. Something about making sure riders returned the horse. Again, he wasn't paying attention. The thing he REALLY wanted to ask about was why in Melitel's name was their shop called SOUP.

In the end he didn't voice his query, elves tended to get a little testy when questioned. (That was a lie. He did ask and it had ended with a sore shoulder and a threat to not give him their service. Not like he'd escalated the situation or anything. (Yet another lie.) He had much more energy before the trip.)

Jaskier dismounted his horse and started bagging all of his items as the stable boy calmed and fed the stead. He looked through his items, noting if anything had been lost on the way. The parcel and his money were still intact, thankfully, and the small increments of food that was left from his trip meant that he'd be able to have a meager meal for the morning.

Jaskier lugged his items in a small bag, careful not to jostle the lute nestled at his back. The stable boy looked at him oddly for a moment, view focused on something beyond his eye line.

Right. His ears.

Jaskier gave a light chuckle as he cupped his ear, brushing his hair back in place to cover them. You could never win with these people. "See something you like?" He joked, reaching into his pocket to get some coin and get this done with. The stable boy spluttered, a blush forming across his freckled cheeks. Jaskier would have considered falling into bed with him had it not been for his staring... or for the fact that he was tired out of his wits and he knew he couldn't get it up now even if he wanted to.

"Thanks for the uhm....ride."   
  


Smooth.

Jaskier handed the coins over and walked out.

As expected of a port this size, the town was already buzzing. Carts and caravans of all kinds passed the streets, travelers taking care not to trample pedestrians with their horses' hooves. Flowers grew from the windows of tenants, birds perched on posts and roofs. Though rather nice looking Jaskier knew not to trust then for they were always ready to defecate on a poor shmuck below.

He turned his attention to the stalls that lined the streets. The market was opened to local patrons and tourists alike, their goods arranged in neat lines sure to be enticing to any hungry traveller. Had it been any other port town the market would have been slightly more sloppy but the Nevivon merchant council was strict bunch and it did well to raise the area's reputation-- and quality of food, o course. Well, that may have just been his stomach talking. He still had a few coins left, enough to buy a room and maybe a meal, so a bit couldn't hurt, right? 

He walked over to a stall, the wood old but polished with a few nicks visible near the floor. The cloth that functioned as its roof drooped ever so slightly and give or take a few hours it would fall completely if it wasn't secured soon.

The one as the stand was an old woman, pudgy and face sagging just as much as her cloth. She looked at him then, eyes bright as she beckoned him closer with a fruit wrapped in cloth.

"Let me guess, a bard from Waterdeep?" She greeted, wrinkled eyes staring at him owlishly. She returned to shining her wares.

"Neverwinter, actually.”   
  
He smiled, bending over to take a closer look at the products. Jaskier plucked an apple from the batch, the fruit an unnaturally deep red. He paused for a moment, surveying it with curiousity.

"I wasn't aware the merchant council is fine with magically enhanced products?"

She blinked, hands immediately halting to a stop. "I don't know what you mean."

Jaskier blinked as well, cogs turning in his head. Right. He'd forgotten in his stupor.

The bard smiled apologetically. "Not to worry, I'm no tattle. I just found the color to be rather odd. Maybe tone it down a bit next time? It might be a little too enticing."

That seemed to calm her down. The woman let out a huff of breath, raising her cloth over her head as if to wack him. "You got me worried there, boy!" She chided, tutting at him with her nostrils flaring. "I'd have half the mind to poison you on the spot!" And so she did. Whack him, that is.

"Ow." Jaskier winced, recoiling at the attack. He chuckled, raising his hands defensively. She grumbled and chucked an apple at him, the fruit landing directly into his palms. Jaskier raised his eyebrows.

"Have at it. You have good eyes." She grumbled, picking up another pale fruit to shine and deepen; though it was clear this time that she'd lessened the coloring.

The bard looked at it for a moment, assessing whether or not it was past its prime or not. Then he thought better of it and immediately chomped down on the clean fruit. The look the lady was giving him had started to get rather offended the longer he spent thinking.

A bit of juice dribbled down his chin, the apple giving a satisfying crunch. It tasted good. Better than any spell should make it.

"Oh ho ho hhh-" Jaskier was pushed forward into the stall and choked on a piece. His eyes widened as he fell forward, catching himself on the post before hitting his chest repeatedly. The apple lady cursed out the passerby before helping him get the piece out. " ** _fUCK_** " he croaked.

Looking back on it, he supposed it was a bit comical how the tiny speck of a woman had punched his body, only supplemented by the piece immediately flying out into the street after. He didn't have the time to consider it comical though. At the moment he was too busy thinking about how he was going to DIE.

As soon as the apple dislodged from his throat, Jaskier inhaled a large breath. "FUCK!!" He repeated, louder this time. The woman laughed, voice booming as she walked over to face him with her arms crossed.

"Chew slowly next time, kid. Don't want the council coming after me for cursed apples." 

"Not counting on it."

She laughed yet again, shaking her head as she resumed her place at the stall, arranging some of the wares that had gotten jostled in the incident.

Jaskier waited till he'd calmed before trying to speak again. 

"Do you-"

"Do I what? Have another free apple? You're getting too used to free samples."

The bard blinked, not sure if he'd offended her until a smile spread across her features. He let out a shaky laugh. "No, not at all. What I meant to ask is do you know of any..." He gestured vaguely. "Interesting going-ons?"   
  


He took another bite into his apple.

"Are you looking for trouble, bard?"

He swallowed. "Of course not."

"Liars, the lot of you." She laughed, a deep rumbling sound now that he was really listening. The lady set down a piece, the apple now joining the ranks of its brothers. "There are rumors a blood hunter is in town, if that's the kind of trouble you're looking for."

Jaskier paused, midway to taking another bite. He closed his mouth. He hadn't heard of a blood hunter sighting in ages. "Tell me more?"

She raised a brow and held her palm out. Jaskier sighed and placed a coin.

"Atta boy. You're learning! Good for you. Good for you!" She cackled, pocketing the money. "Can't miss him. Apparently man's got white hair and a boulder for a body."

"White hair and a..." His brain fizzled for a moment. That's it, this was way too much thinking for him. He smiled and took another bite out of the apple. Jaskier waved at the lady. "See you later?"

She snorted. "I sure hope not."

"Wise choice." He grinned.

Jaskier shook his head, taking yet another bite of his apple. He'll head off to the bar later on to deliver the parcel but for now what he needed was a bath and some good sleep. Who knows, if he was more alert then maybe he'd spot that blood hunter they were talking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt shows up in the next one


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two halves of the same brain cell meet

Jaskier woke up at mid noon with drool coming down the side of his face. He hadn't bothered to bathe when he'd gotten the room, choosing instead to strip and be done with; but by the time he took off his socks exhaustion had completely taken over him and he fell into the mattress and slept.

Which was a somewhat bad idea considering when he finally rose from bed he had a crick in his neck and his muscles had gone taut. The ride had done a number on him and clearly the poor bed position didn't help mend the situation. At the very least he was well rested. Besides, it wasn't a if a few sores weren't something he could just stretch to get rid of.

Jaskier dragged himself off, the sheets trailing behind him as he fell into a kneeling position beside the bed. He groaned, eyes still closed, and wiped the liquid off of the side of his face. 

The bard blinked for a few moments, eyes adjusting to the light. With shaky arms and even shakier legs he lifted himself with the mattress for support. It was a bit funny to look at, like a new born calf learning to walk.

After a few more added minutes of staying in position, willing the blood to return back to his extremities with a rather prickly sensation, Jaskier moved. He stretched his arms upward with a satisfying pop and proceeded to do the same for every other limb. With a few more minutes of stretching Jaskier finished and finally had half the mind to start dressing in his clothes.

It was still light out so he could probably easily find the tavern he was supposed to deliver the parcel to. "Rowdy Raven" the man had called it. Jaskier couldn't think of how a raven could be rowdy when often times around him they skipped a few steps on the anger spectrum and went straight to murderous. However, who was he to judge? At the very least the person clearly put some brain into the name. 

Jaskier huffed, packing the things he needed on his trip along with a flute before exiting the room. He'd come back later but for now it was time for work and (hopefully) a little bit of merriment sprinkled in as dessert.

The bard descended down the creaky stairs of the tavern he stayed in. It was fairly clean, not lavish but not drab. The posts that supported all of its three levels was made of strong material and it was clearly big enough to house a particularly short giant if it wanted to.  He passed the staircase into the hall where the inn-woman slept. There was no bar here, and Jaskier had made sure of that. He found it best to avoid living where he'd be drinking for the time being lest the owners find his presence to be less than savory and kick him out.

The bard was about to pass the front desk when someone pretty caught his eye. He leaned over, smiling lavishly at the lady taking care of matters. Her hair looked as if it was spun from gold, eyes taken from the ocean itself, and lips like freshly picked peaches with condensation coating the surface.

"Ah, you're the Innkeeper's daughter?" 

She raised her head, eyes dazed. It took her a moment, cogs in her head spinning before she finally snapped to attention.

"Sorry!" She squeaked. Jaskier winced. "Sorry. I um, haven't gotten much sleep recently." She muttered, dragging a hand down her face. She slapped her cheeks between her hands a few times in an attempt to wake herself up. Jaskier laughed.

"No, it's alright. Don't best yourself up over it." He smiled, reaching inside his pocket for his keys.

"Oh, I'm just saying excuses." She said with a defeated sigh. "What is it you need?"

"I'm just here to return my keys, actually. I'm going out." He replied, fishing them out and handing them over to her. She took them in hand and hooked them on a rack behind her. "Going to do a little playing?" 

Jaskier paused, unsure how she'd known. Then she'd pointed to the lute behind his back and he couldn't help but laugh. He'd forgotten about that. "I can give you a private show later if you want."

She squinted, unsure for a moment what he meant, but by the way he was smiling at her a blush spread on her cheeks. "I'm not sure my mother would allow that."

"Shame." He sighed dramatically. "I could have played for you here later to quell your boredom."

"As in, literal playing?"

"What else?" He replied, cracking a grin at the amused smile taking over her face. "Sorry. One can never know with you bards. You're a frisky bunch."

"Ah!" He pressed a hand against his chest. "You wound me!" She giggled. Jaskier smiled. It was time to get back on track. "Do you happen know a tavern here by the name of the Rowdy Raven?" He asked, returning to a regular leaning position. She tapped her chin, the space between her brows drawing close.

"It's down the street. Take a left turn by the old Cyprus tree and you're well on your way."

Jaskier pushed himself off the table with a flourish. "Thank you."

"--and, bard?"

"Yes?"

"Don't go looking for trouble. Would be a waste of a pretty face."

"I can't promise." He grinned, relishing in the way she rolled her eyes.

Jaskier walked to the front door and was about to open it when a large form came in dressed in black leather. He didn't bother to look at who it was, he was running late. "Excuse me." He muttered squeezing past the large figure who merely replied with a gruff "Hmm." 

The bard followed the directions given to him, walking with haste until he reached the tavern. It was a grand thing. Well as grand as a tavern could go. The front door was engraved with golden markings and the windows lined with lilacs. He passed the open doorway and into the room already bustling despite the early time. Well, it was never too late for a drink now was it?

He ignored the glances thrown at him, much more concerned with the parcel in his bag. He'd flirt and sing as he pleased later but at the moment he had a job to fulfill.

Jaskier approached a stocky woman with bright red hair and a kind smile. Her kind eyes latched on to him, a look of recognition passing her face. Jaskier smiled, taking the parcel from his bag. "Miss Irene!" he greeted. "I suspected it was you Giovanni was describing. He wanted to have this delivered."

"Ever the traveler aren't you Jaskier?" She laughed, taking the item in hand. She checked for anything that might have shown it was opened. "He sent a letter telling me you were coming. I knew it was your pimply arse the moment he spoke of a bard hailing from Neverwinter. "

"My ass is no-" Irene threw him a look. He zipped his mouth.

"I apologize, I meant pasty." Irene laughed. She took a pouch of coins then threw it at him. It landed in his hands perfectly. With a pout he tucked it into his bag. "You see me naked ONCE." He grumbled.

Irene patted him on the shoulder mockingly and promptly ignored him. "You're probably tired travelling all the way here. Drink's on me."

And that was all it took for Jaskier's eyes to sparkle.

He played into the night, drinking and eating to his heart's content but making sure to never spend past his budget. He strummed his lute, crooning into the crowd that met him with either joy or heckling depending on the song. In case it was the latter he quickly shifted into a different piece which seemed to satiate the beasts. As the night went on the people in the tavern grew and grew until he could no longer be heard past the first few people and a band was needed in his steed.

He left the stage, lugging the money that had been thrown at him and keeping it in his bag with the others. He'd even recieved a piece of bread somehow. He shoved it in his pants.

That was when he'd spotted him.

Black leather and a boulder of a body with hair as white as snow.

He'd assumed by boulder the lady had meant.. he hadn't expected... _this._

His throat felt dry.

Jaskier approached him, taking a drink from a passing tray to keep his hands busy. Now that he was closer and could get a better look he realized he was the man he'd passed at the inn earlier. It didn't take long for him to notice the man's amber like eyes that pierced straight into him. It was unlike the golden of the tieflings he'd lain with. As if the gods had poured starlight into his soul and it overflowed at the edges.

Jaskier sat opposite to the blood hunter who was now assessing him with a stony, and incredibly cold demeanor. Jaskier wasn't exactly sure whether he liked it or not but it certainly made him feel... something.

"You're the blood hunter." He murmured, voice filled with wonder.

The man blinked slowly. It was unnatural.

"Come on. Don't keep a man with uh..." Amber eyes lowered to an area covered by the table between them. Jaskier stuttered. "A man with bread in his pants waiting."

The man's nose twitched.

It was then Jaskier remembered. Years ago when he'd gone to a village south of the sword coast, they'd spoken of a blood hunter with hair white and eyes golden, how he'd butchered their men.

Jaskier's mouth formed an O. "You're Geralt of Rivia." He spoke with amazement. "The Butcher of Blaviken."

Luckily, none of the other patrons had heard--- much too busy with wine and drink to listen in to a bard's tales.

Geralt placed his ale down.

"I'm here to drink alone."

"Ah, but the thing is... you don't have to."

Jaskier could see his patience slipping, how his hand tightened around the handle of his pint. He needed to talk fast.

A bit of inspiration hit him. Bardic inspiration, if you will.

"Think about it! I'm a bard, I can deal with the nobles for you, make it easier for you to come in and out of towns and cities without people breathing down your neck. Get you extra coin and a bunch of other things."

Oh wow, was he sweating? This was the most frightened he'd been of getting rejected in a while.

Geralt's fingers kept their tight grip.

"You're a half-elf." Jaskier flinched. "What makes you think they'll listen to you?"

"Some of the greatest bards are half-elf, my good sir. And if you haven't noticed I am decidedly not part blood hu-"

"What's in it for you?"

Jaskier paused, hands frozen mid-motion. "Huh?"

Geralt stared, waiting for him to respond.  The bard blinked, mind coming to a halt. He mulled the question for a moment but came with an answer quickly enough.

"Inspiration."

Geralt let go of the ale, eyes zeroing in on him yet somehow he'd felt less nervous than before. Speaking his heart out always came much easier.

"You're a blood hunter, obviously. I'm just a bard---not even from the college of swords. I can't survive out there alone, and from what I've heard of you you're quite the fighter. The perils you face daily must be much more than what I get to see in a year."

They stared at each other, eyes locked on without flinching. It was a bit funny, seeing a bard go head on with a blood hunter.

Geralt chugged what remained of his pint and left.

He hadn't said no.

Jaskier grinned and followed. He had a new Muse now, quiet as he may be, and he was going to do his damn best to do well on his promise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Press NPC for interaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will never be able to write a consistent amount of words. (Really shows how much of a chaotic mess I am.) Will get consistently late with these uploads. Busy with getting my clearance signed.
> 
> Edit: I forgot to add that I drew this thing of them a few days ago! So now you have a visual representation of what these idiots look like.

It was probably a bad idea following a blood hunter like this. He'd pestered the man the moment they left that tavern and despite a very loaded punch to the gut, he still carried on. Even by the time they'd reached the inn and he played for Sidhe (He'd learned her name after a particularly jovial song.) Geralt loathed to give him a response to any of his antics. Jaskier feared that come morning the man would leave him in the dust, yet when he'd woken up to a harsh rasp on his door he was met with amber eyes and a tired expression that judged him for not being ready yet.

That had made him happier than it should.

Jaskier insisted on eating breakfast first before embarking on whatever forsaken adventure Geralt wished to go on. So there they were, back at the Rowdy Raven eating a heavy breakfast as drunken bodies lay asleep around them. "Where are you planning on going after this?"

Geralt looked up at him as he ate through a particularly large chunk of meat. Jaskier decided to treat him as a celebration of the "start of their partnership" and Geralt had replied with a gruff "Hmmm" and side-eyed him, which Jaskier was pretty sure translated to "Don't regret it".  
Geralt swallowed and the bard couldn't help but track the movement of his throat.

"Vesuvia."

"Really? That place?"

Geralt looked at him oddly. Jaskier made an exaggerated motion with his hands. "Doesn't it still have that... that red thing."  
"The red plague."

"Yes."

"They got rid of it."

"When?"

Geralt looked ready to choke him had it not been for the meat in his hands. "Three years ago."

Jaskier's mind churned. Last time he heard, the red plague had hit the city-state and caused its bustling economy to collapse. How it survived when more than half of its population got eradicated was a miracle in and of itself. The bard raised a finger, ready to poise yet another question when Geralt's grip tightened. He put his hand down. He could pester the man later when they both finished digesting their respective meals. He didnt want to be punched into hurling in the middle of Irene's tavern. Jaskier wasn't fond of the idea of incurring the woman's ire when all she'd ever done was be accepting of him, a half-elf.

  
That was when the bleating came.  
A white ball of wool flew past the patrons' passed out bodies, hurried in its steps as it held a scroll of paper tightly inside it's mouth. The first one to notice it was Geralt, confused why Irene saw the thing enter and didn't bother to kick it out. He kept quiet though, it wasn't his business to judge a tavern's choice of patronage. Besides it wasn't as if it was the strangest thing he'd seen enter a tavern.  
Still, why sheep?

He pondered over it as he ate until the thing spotted them and came barreling-- right into Jaskier's lap.

None of them were surprised (Vaguely, Geralt wondered when the bard had noticed it but he just chalked it up to the noise). They both awkwardly looked at each other, unsure of what to make of the situation, when the sheep started to shove the scroll into Jaskier's chest.

Geralt's lip curled slightly in amusement. "Go on, can't keep a sheep with a scroll in its mouth waiting."

Jaskier looked at him in disbelief. Geralt looked so satisfied with his own stupid joke that Jaskier couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Oh fuck off." He snorted.

The bard took the scroll in hand. He scrunched his eyebrows together and jut out his lower lip upon opening it. Geralt finished off his meal as Jaskier's eyes scanned the contents of the paper. 

He whispered a few words, the letters glowing in response to his mutterings before receeding back into the ink.

Geralt stared at him, arms crossed. Waiting.  
Jaskier opened his mouth to speak but the sheep beat him to it by bleating once and kicking him in the stomach. It hopped onto a seat beside them. Geralt looked unfazed as Jaskier coughed and held his midsection.  
"What did she say?"

"How-" Jaskier wheezed. "-did you know it's a she?"

"Doesn't have a dick."

"Oh." The bard breathed in, trying to get his bearings. "Right. That."  
Jaskier's mind flashed to the night before.

".....Do you stare at everyone's groi-"

"Jaskier."

"-n when you meet them?"

Geralt's gaze darkened.

"Right." Jaskier laughed.

Jaskier turned to the animal and glared. He threw at it a quick gesture that relied heavily on his middle finger. It bleated in protest but Jaskier stuck up his nose and ignored him. He turned to Geralt. "She says her name is Juniper---Sorry--Yennefer, of Vengerberg. Apparently she has a quest for the both of us but I don't find anyone who's name sounds like a song written by the Vengaboys particularly trustworthy."

Geralt's eyes shifted between the two of them, weighing in his mind whether he wanted to continue this conversation or not.  
The sheep bleated. Somehow she had enough control of her facial features to show her annoyance. Jaskier continued.

"She says once it's all over she can give us a hundred coins."

"Two hundred." Geralt replied.

"One hundred fifty." Jaskier shot back. Geralt glared at him and he raised his hands in surrender Nonetheless, he had an impish grin on his face. "I am merely the messenger, dear heart."

Geralt grunted and closed his eyes. Whether it was at the money or the nickname was unclear. "A hundred seventy-five and that's it."

The sheep bleated.  
Jaskier stared for a moment, a laugh curling in his throat. "Well I'm not going to translate that, but she said yes."

Geralt nodded. "Good. Now what do you need us to do?"

And so Yennefer bleated on and on, only taking pauses so Jaskier could translate and then promptly kicking him if he decided to mess around. Apparently she was a wizard temporarily staying here in Nevivon to accompany the king but after a particularly sordid encounter with her colleague, the damn bastard had turned her into a sheep with her own wand. Jaskier couldn't help but snort as he turned to Geralt. "She says he's a wrinkly, pruny, trite, old cunt by the name of Stregobor."

Geralt closed his eyes, eyebrows pinching.  
"Fuck."

"Oi. Language." Jaskier grinned. "You know him?"

"I wish I didn't."

Geralt sighed as he stood from the table. He was done eating. "Let's get this done with. I don't want this to drag on longer than it has to."

Jaskier looked at him, lips pursed in curiosity before looking over at Yennefer. She bleated. "A bit edgy, your partner." She said. He laughed yet again, shaking his head. "Luckily he's got the body to balance that. You want me to carry you?"

Yennefer looked at him, affronted. Jaskier shrugged. "You've been running for so long, I imagine it gets tiring after a while."

She didn't reply for a bit, eyeing him suspiciously. Finally, "Fine. But if you try anything I'm biting your ear off."

"I hope not."

"Jaskier stop chatting with the sheep."

"Yes, mother."

Jaskier went and lifted Yennefer into his arms, shifting her position until she finally decided it was comfortable.

They followed after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy next chapter will probably be longer depending on my mood. This is actually based off of an actual adventure. I was supposed to actually make the sheep Finethir but decided to, why not, just put Yen in and forced them into a situation where only Jaskier can understand her.
> 
> Note: Does anyone know how to remove that tiny bit at the end there? The phone version doesn't function all that well.
> 
> Edit: It's fixed now!!! Thank you ;w;


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yen turns back.

Somehow on the way to where Stregobor rested they'd gotten attacked FIVE times. It was already a mess as it was without Yennefer constantly threatening to murder the polymorphed guards in her sheep language. Jaskier was aware that they could get there easier if he just went and seduced their leader or invaded his mind but watching Geralt move in a dance of swords and sweat was doing great in invigorating his imagination and his loins. His split second decision to join him had given the bard a stroke of luck and now he was reaping his rewards. His Muse was absolutely stunning and he could already feel a song forming in the forefront his mind. One for the masses and one he could quietly sing to himself alone at night.

Yennefer bleated loudly below him. He snapped out of his thoughts as three rabid wolves jumped for his throat. Jaskier fumbled for his lute, fingers slipping at the edges. "Cover your ears!"

He fingers struck a chord that ripped through the air, blasting the wolves and sending them back into the forest. His companions headed his warning and blocked their ears, keeping their footing rooted to the ground.

The wolves were too far away to see the full extent of damage, but they never got up to attack again. Jaskier gripped the neck of his lute as their bodies morphed back into human form.

Well, it wasn't his first kill and it wouldn't be his last.

The bard stared, eyes zoning in behind Geralt to see the cloaked bear raising its arm above Geralt's body, ready to strike, and then---"Geralt! Watch out!"---a scream. Geralt drove his sword into the bear's gut, twisting it further in as it dropped to it's knees. It tried to struggle at first, the fire cauterizing it's wounds, but soon enough it began to burn further. The pain of the primal rite of flame stifled it's cries until, finally, it collapsed. Geralt pulled the sword out clean, not a single drop of blood or flesh on its silver blade. "He's not dead."

Jaskier sighed in relief.

Now only their leader remained.

His head was held low, eyes focused on the ground. He'd been brought to his knees by the sound and stayed low as he watched the last of his group be killed off one by one.

Jaskier felt pity for him, but then again they'd been the ones to ambush them first.

The three of them walked over to his body, Geralt keeping watch of his movements. He held his sword close to his neck as a precaution.

Jaskier knelt before him, a soft smile on his face. Their leader, Guz as he'd introduced himself earlier, flinched when he placed two hands on his cheeks.

Jaskier opened his mouth and started to sing a slow and deliberate lullaby laced with magic. It passed through his lips like honey and mildew on a misty morning.

"Carry on my wayward son  
There'll be peace when you are done  
Lay your weary head to rest  
Don't you cry no more."

The half-orc calmed and slowly his eyes started to droop. Jaskier stroked his cheek with a smile soft and open. Geralt frowned, his medallion vibrating. The bard's eyes shifted with magic, the blue color hypnotic and alluring. His voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

That was when Geralt was struck with a realization, his magic wasn't just affecting one target--- it was affecting all of them.

Jaskier's tone was kind and patient. "Tell us where he is."

Geralt's lips pursed. That was the kind of latent power one would not expect from a bard. "In the forest south of town." Guz answered, gaze distant. "He's staying in a tower there, waiting for the king's orders."

Jaskier started to draw slow and deliberate circles into his cheeks, soothing even to those who were watching. "How can we get to him?"

Geralt looked over at Yennefer, the sheep had a bit of a crease between her brows. She sensed it too.

"There's a hidden passageway leading into it, by the marsh."

Jaskier smiled, speaking a quiet "Thank you" before brushing his thumbs down the half-orcs eyelids. Guz's breathing slowed, his consciousness receeding into slumber. Jaskier took care to gently position him on the ground before standing and patting off his pants.

"I think we all heard that?"

"What did you do to him?"

Jaskier smiled, eyes continuing to shift before finally calming into his cornflower blue. "I did what any bard would do, Geralt. I put him to sleep."

He turned to Yennefer and picked her up in his arms, this time with no complaint. He stroked her back softly and while she looked indignant it seemed she actually liked it. Even a little bit. It was like she was starting to get used to being a sheep.

Geralt sighed. There was no point arguing. He was right. Jaskier had done what any other bard would do. It was just that he seemed to do... Just a little bit more.

Yennefer bleated. It was a shame Geralt couldn't understand what she asked because by how Jaskier's eyes widened it was probably about what just happened. "Yes. You can't really find a better college if not there." He replied, scratching behind her ear. Satisfied with his reply she kicked Jaskier in the arm force him to drop her and once she was safely on the ground she proceeded to walk to where Stregobor was supposed to be.

Jaskier huffed, placing his arms on his hips murmuring about rude hags and what not. He turned to Geralt and pointed to Yennefer. "What? You aren't following her?"

The blood hunter pushed past him and followed her, which ended with even more indignant huffs from the bard. Something about not respecting his personal space. Geralt wasn't exactly in the mood to listen to his hypocrisy.

They arrived at the bottom of the tower, backs held against the walls. Geralt was at the front, sword in hand as he listened in for guards. He turned to look at his companions and found that.... Well, Jaskier had a knife in hand.

But so did Yennefer.

"Did you give the sheep a knife?"

"Well she can't exactly protect herself now can she!?"

Geralt wasn't sure a sheep could scowl but Yennefer did and so now he was stuck two to one. How did he end up stuck in this situation. He sighed and trudged forward.

All of the floors were empty.

Save for the last two.

Footsteps echoed in the halls, chatter passing through the guards with ease.

Geralt's grip tightened on his sword. There would be at least twenty people he'd have to fight.

He steadied his stance and reached into his sash, taking a red, violet, and yellow potion in hand. They glowed unnaturally in the dim light of the room. He popped all three open, and chugged them down. The colors flowed through his veins, pulsing brightly--rising until they met his eyes. Jaskier stared as Black replaced amber, his heartbeat rising.

Geralt's nose twitched, eyes turning to him for a moment before shrugging off what he'd smelled. "Stay here." He warned.

Then he ran.

Jaskier, of course, did not listen.

He followed him, making sure to not be seen. The fight was beautiful-- a flurry of blood, and carnage, and even magic. Yennefer followed behind him, not much for being around either. She took one look at what was happening before dropping the knife and bleating at him softly. "Oh you have got it bad." She laughed.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, nudging her with his foot. Her laughter turned mocking. "Though clearly the poor sod is too bad to see it." Jaskier huffed as she grinned at him and took the knife in mouth.

As much as they wanted to fight they were both poorly prepared. Jaskier first of all was wearing clothes he actually LIKED, and Yennefer... Well Yennefer was a sheep. She couldn't exactly cast any magic in this form. They waited there until the fighting turned less and less chaotic. One final stab later and Geralt returned, stains spread haphazardly across his body. Whether that was his own blood or not remained unclear.

Jaskier leaned over to pear at the scene behind him. The guards were still breathing.

"Had fun?"

Geralt ignored him, pulling a white potion from his pocket and guzzling it down. His wounds started to stitch themselves back together, though clearly there wasn't a potion that could clean his clothes.

Yennefer bleated and yet again Jaskier was tasked with translating her words. A real treat this one.

"She says you smell like shit, and I have to agree."

Geralt sniffed, rolling his eyes at him.

"Comes with the job."

"That's an odd way to say you don't bathe."

"Jaskier."

"We're getting you clean the next town over."

"Jaskier."

The bard picked Yennefer in hand and started to climb upstairs. "Sorry can't hear you."

Geralt grit his teeth, eyes closed from frustration before trudging after the two.

Once they reached the top, Stregobor was there, waiting. He was staring out the window, back facing towards them. Only his silhouette could be seen inside but unluckily for him, all of them had dark vision. What an idiot.

Jaskier placed Yennefer down, taking rose petals from inside his pocket. Geralt looked at him oddly but all the bard did was motion him inside. The blood hunter entered, the moonlight illuminating his face. Stregobor turned to him slowly, bastard pruney cunt face framed with a look of calm that carefully veiled a tiny tinge of fear . "Geralt, what a surprise."

"You're right." Jaskier whispered to Yennefer. "He really is an ugly bastard."

"And a traitorous bitch." Yen bleated.

"Stregobor. Where is the wand?"

They both turned their attention back to where Geralt approached the man.

"Did Yennefer send you here? I'll have you know my dear friend, that she is a-"

Jaskier crushed the rose petals in his hand, the item turning into blue dust that floated in the wind. It was time to get to work.

"-I'm not your friend. Never have, and never will be."

Stregobor's grip on the wand tightened.

Jaskier sang.

"Ili-ili, tulog anay  
Wala diri imong nanay  
Kadto tienda, bakal papay  
Ili-ili tulog anay."

The bard heard a loud thump. His spell had worked.

Before he could even turn to look at what happened, Yennefer was already running in with a knife in mouth.

He heard a loud "No!" Followed by a loud stab.

Jaskier laughed, walking into the room to find that Yennefer had imbedded the knife into the man's leg.

Geralt looked tired beyond belief and Yennefer looked incredibly smug.

"Is that your wand?"

Yennefer bleated. "Yes." Jaskier translated.

The sheep ran over to one of the shelves and scanned them, pointing towards a book that the bard then reached and grabbed for her. Behind them, Geralt checked the Stregobor for injuries.

Jaskier placed the book down, watching as Yennefer flipped her way through the thing. Pages upon pages passed filled with delicate drawings of items and spells until she finally stopped and pressed the tip of her hoof on one. Jaskier bend over and took it, reading the text as she ran over and bit Stregobor on the hand before taking her wand and handing it to the bard.

"Just say the spell and I'll be back." 

Jaskier squinted, pointing the black stick at her as he chanted the words. They glowed red, washing his face in light. Slowly, Yennefer's body morphed, changing with loud cracks until she was back into her normal form.

The two men stared. Oh, wow. The sheep form did NOT do her justice. She was beautiful, raven hair flowing over her shoulders and intricate horns protruding from her head. Though her skin and body seemed human enough, her eyes were like Geralt's--- shining like amethysts with no white to be seen. A tiefling.

"What? Like what you see?" She snorted, taking the wand from his hand. That seemed to snap him out of his trance, closing the book and handing it over to her. She pushed the object back into the shelf. Jaskier looked behind her where Geralt was starting to take objects from the man's pockets. Didn't seem like he liked him either. "If you're going to off the sod I wouldn't be surprised. In fact, I'd even help you get rid of the corpse."

"No." Yennefer grinned. "We're banned from murdering our fellow Wizards without permission from the council. I'll just give him a little bit of a gift."

Geralt's brows scrunched.

"What gift?"

"A little bit of a dressing down."

And that was exactly how Geralt had found himself staring as his companions stripped a wizard of all his clothes and belongings. They then proceeded to open up a portal to, what he now recognized was a dining hall at Aretuza, then kicked the bastard in.

The two were giggling like a bunch of children. If they stayed with each other for any longer he feared what kind of mischief and backstabbing they'd come up with.

Jaskier raised his hand for a high-five which was promptly ignored. He grumbled but was simply met with an eye roll. 

Geralt decided it was nigh time they got moving. "What now?"

"First off, we need to leave this place or else I'll die of Stregobor's stench."

"And the money?"

"Geralt, for Melitel's sake we'll get the money outside. Come on, Yen."

"When did you start calling her Yen?"

"Since just now. Get on with the times, Geralt."

"Yes, Geralt. Get on with the times."

These two were going to increase his blood pressure. He sighed, following the two as they descended the stairs. With every floor they passed Jaskier looted whatever he wanted. First it was the guard's money, and then a flute, and then a harmonica, and then a mirror, and then a bag that almost seemed endless in the inside. Geralt had to stop him by the time he wanted to steal an entire bed.

Once they reached the outside, Yennefer fished a pouch of coins from her pocket and threw it at Geralt. It clattered as he caught it.

She smirked at them, opening a portal behind her. "See you next time, boys." And just like that, she disappeared.

Without the light of her magic bathing them in its glow, they were yet again enveloped in darkness. The clouds had covered the mood.

Jaskier turned to Geralt, now seeing him as nothing but black and white shades. "Should we camp out?"

"No." Geralt replied, staring at the floor where he'd incapacitated the guards. "Their friends will come looking for them."

"But you left Roach."

"Then we'll walk."

Jaskier looked at him in disbelief. "Have you perhaps lost your marbles!? Its the middle of the night!"

Geralt eyed him, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Then we'll walk. In the middle night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tieflings are hot leave me alone.


End file.
